Flower Petals
by kyrilu
Summary: Can you see all the flower petals dancing among the sky? Let's reach out and grab each and every one of them, and catch them before they fall to the earth. KaiShin/KaiCon
1. Chapter 1

Chapter 1: Sakura

Conan had to pinch himself to force his body and mind to stay awake. With a wince, he sunk his blunt nails into a small sliver of skin, feeling his body start with shock of pain.

Last night had been exhausting, he thought while surveying the white pinch mark with a regretful eye. There had been a Kaitou Kid heist that needed to be dealt with, and on top of that, a murder. Both were so infuriating to handle, and he'd hadn't even gotten a single wink of sleep.

He had lied to Ran, telling her that he would be over at Agasa's house. It had been simple to sneak through the police investigation, owing to all the scrambling officers trying to carry out the final preparations. Really, they should have been more attentive. (Of course, he had darted that security guard.)

Unfortunately, he wasn't able to face-off with Kid. There had been a murder across the street, and solving deaths were top priority. Anyways, the thief was relatively harmless, and always returned the gems he stole. So the boy had dashed to the crime scene and dropped many hints as subtly as he could, putting the police on the right track.

And the victim…Conan shuddered violently as he remembered what he had discovered. And the victim apparently had slim connections to the Black Organization. It wasn't much of a lead, actually, but there had to be more information somewhere. They weren't the ones who killed the man, but Shinichi had a feeling that they were planning to. Luckily, the police were too preoccupied with the murder, allowing him time to snatch a spare key so he could creep back in.

Here he was now, ransacking the dead man's files, trying to search for any compromising leads. Honestly, it was boring, and it consumed way too much time. But he had to use his time wisely – the police were planning to search through the files later, just in case there was anything more linked to the murder. Right now, they were probably questioning the culprit for all the details, and re-examining the evidence.

Conan's eyelids drooped down for a second, lulled into sleep by the silence. He quickly blinked rapidly several times, forcing them to stay open and continue reading. Yet the words seemed to blur into the page as he skimmed between the lines…ugh. Maybe stretching his legs for a second would help.

Groggily, he reached into a drawer of a file cabinet, tucking a few folders underneath a scrawny arm. His sock-covered feet padded lethargically over to a corner of the room, where he flopped down on the carpet-covered floor beneath an open window.

He hadn't risked turning on the lights, in case any neighbors would notice. There was enough sunlight filtering through the open window, which he used instead as his light source. Outside, birds cheeped and twittered, and Conan could hear the soft flutter of feathered wings. A few late crickets continued to chirp, hidden between cobwebbed bushes.

Checking the clock on the wall, he frowned. It was early in the morning, when any sensible person would be asleep. Especially if one hadn't slept all night…oh come on, he should concentrate. He went back to work, shuffling and sifting through the various papers. For several moments, he continued on with his tedious examination, but to no avail. He felt so heavy right now…god, he was tired. But he had to finish reading through all of this…

On the other side of the room, the window pane was flung open deftly, and a white-clad figure slunk into the room. A white cape billowed in the slight breeze before straightening. The young man was dressed in a formal suit, like one would wear to a wedding. He strolled casually over towards Conan, a top hat perched on his head, and a monocle hiding an eye.

"Naughty child, you should be in bed right now," Kaitou Kid clucked cheekily, cape streaming like a flag behind him. He waggled a gloved finger at the boy, tsk-tsk-ing in mock disapproval. Carelessly, the young man flung his cape aside after unbuckling it from his shoulders.

Dumbly, Conan stared at the discarded cape. "Isn't that you're glider, too?" With a wary eye, he kept his gaze trained on the thief, a hand fastened tightly on his watch. He sighed, and without waiting for an answer, he scowled grumpily, "Can you please leave me alone? I have a lot of work to do." The child gestured to the papers sitting on his lap.

"Does work count as entering private property, and reading personal papers without permission?" Kid couldn't help question, amusement glinting in his mocking eyes. Surveying the neat pile of papers the boy had stacked up, he couldn't hide his astonishment at the large amount of them.

"Yes," Conan agreed wearily. He was in no mood to argue. It was actually true, technically, but how else could he find information about them? But there had to be something, somewhere – the dead man had stumbled upon something dangerous enough to endanger his life. Shinichi just couldn't let the opportunity pass – there could be something important.

To Conan's surprise, the thief slumped back against the wall, knees sinking down. Kid yawned loudly, trying to cover it up with a gloved hand.

"You're tired?" the boy observed, raising his eyebrows as he studied the state the thief was in. Well…he wasn't the only one, actually. They both had pretty much a really long night.

"Yep," the magician chirped, futilely struggling to get back up on his feet. But he was so drained of energy…stupid Hakuba. Why the hell did he have to be in Japan? He should have stayed back in London... But at least today was the weekend, and Kaito didn't need to be in school, with the half-British detective pestering him with accusations. (Kaito was glad that Conan hadn't participated in his heist. That made everything much easier.)

"But you're tired too," Kid added. 'Tired' was more of an understatement, really. It was more like 'dead on your feet' – yeah, that would fulfill the description perfectly. Sleep would be nice…sleep would be good…

"Obviously," Conan retorted half-heartedly. But really, he had no energy at all to quarrel or chase or kick or dart - it was all he could do to just continue talking.

Upon closer inspection, one could really perceive the dark shadows under Kid's eyes – Kaito had not only stayed up late on the heist night, but on several nights previous for scouting and planning. And of course, for Conan, he was in a seven-year old body – children really did need more sleep than adults.

Kid abruptly flopped down on the floor next to Conan with unexpected speed. The boy flinched, struggling to remain alert as he watched the thief's every move.

"…what are you doing?" Conan inquired, blue eyes narrowed.

"Sleeping," the thief slurred. And to Shinichi's disbelief, Kid laid his head on the boy's lap, flinging the papers off of it with one skillful movement, and in the process, confiscating the boy's watch.

Petrified with surprise, the child didn't move an inch, only gaping in mortification. But Kid was fast asleep, hat and monocle and all (minus cape).

Under regular circumstances, Shinichi would have immediately flung the thief as far away as possible. But sleep was calling out to him…especially with the thief's warm skin pressed on top of him…listening to his deep, slow breaths as he inhaled and exhaled…pulse throbbing…soft, silky glove on his thigh…warm…

Without a second thought, Conan fumbled with his oversized glasses, placing them beside him. As if the magician was a teddy bear, he gave in to the urge to bury a hand into Kid's velvety, messy dark hair…feeling the warm sun's rays shine on both of them as the sweet scent of flowers wafted through the window…

A single flower petal drifted in, spiraling down in a hypnotic swirl.

When it finally touched the floor, Shinichi had already given himself up to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: White Bara

Blearily, Conan opened his eyes, feeling fully satisfied and well-rested. With a yawn, he stretched out his arms, rubbing away tears of sleep. Contented, he began to bring to mind all the events that had occurred this morning and…wait a minute.

He caught sight of Kid lounging on a chair at the other side of the room, observing him with merry eyes. Vaguely, Shinichi felt disappointed the thief had left his side…he felt…empty. And the magician had been...warm.

"Had a good nap, tantei-kun?" the young man greeted him, swinging the boy's dart watch back and forth teasingly with a white-gloved hand. Conan growled like a dog, fiercely glaring. But the thief only winked at him cheerily, as if the whole situation was a mere joke.

"Give me my watch back, now," the child demanded. Energy replenished, his eyes searched the room desperately, trying to locate a kickable object. His gaze lingered for a second on the files strewn over the floor, and he wondered if he should continue working and ignore Kid. He was running out of time, after all.

Kid sighed dramatically, instead pocketing the watch. "I'd rather not, actually. One does not enjoy being put to sleep. But you should be grateful towards me, after all – I didn't wake you up from your peaceful sleep. Anyways," he crowed gleefully, "you're cute when you're sleeping."

…there really was no logical answer to any of Kid's meaningless taunts, was there? Conan continued to glower, until he finally said, "Why the hell did you come here?"

"'Cause you make a nice pillow," the magician tittered playfully.

Oh – that… A light shade of red dusted Conan's cheeks, much to his regret. "Sh-hut up! Stop playing games and get to the point."

The thief smirked, enjoying the effect he had imposed upon the small detective. "I take all of this seriously, thank you very much. So, what're you looking for?" Even he was unable to restrain the curiosity creeping into his appearance. "I might be able to help." Kaitou Kid, after all, was a chivalrous gentleman.

"As if," the boy scoffed. "You're a thief. What are you supposed to know?" In Shinichi's mind, thieves were out of the loop - the loop which included the people who were involved with the Black Organization. But who could trust criminals anyway? One might as well trust complete strangers.

"I suppose this may be of some importance." In a flash of pink-colored smoke, a simple flash-drive appeared in Kid's hands, which he proffered to the child.

"Where'd you…?" With a keen stare, Conan squinted to try to scrutinize it further. Maybe…just maybe…please.

The magician grinned at the baffled detective. "Nabbed it off of the guy who died – except I didn't know he was going to." As he spoke, his usually jovial tone became sober. "I heard some mysterious people talking about it, and since they seemed to be up to no good, I made sure to take this the first chance I got."

Cautiously, Conan gingerly held the item out to the light. His breath hitched and heart sped up as he read some figures inscribed on its side. "APTX 4869," he breathed, incapable of keeping the rising excitement from lighting up his blue eyes.

Kid frowned, the corners of his mouth turning down in confusion. "What's that?" Tantei-kun seemed to understand the information that the flash-drive held. He himself wasn't able to access it when he tried to open it on the victim's computer. It was password protected, securely locked.

"It's nothing," the boy said nonchalantly, quickly pocketing the small thing. There was no way Kid should get involved with them. If it was his choice, nobody should – it was too dangerous. His stomach lurched as the recalled all the people who could be in serious trouble because of him.

"Oh, come on," Kid complained, whining as if he was a child Conan's apparent age. Frustrated, he said, "I go through the trouble of stealing something unrelated to my heists, and for a detective, and I don't even receive a single explanation?"

The child's pupils glimmered with mirth, giddy at the possible discovery of a permanent cure. "Even if I wanted to, I certainly wouldn't tell you."

Kaito scowled internally. That detective was one big headache. All he wanted to do was visit the child to start their usual banter - to make up for Conan's absence during his heist. Of course, he hadn't expected the boy to be messing with a murdered man's files. And it was only his good manners and grace that allowed Conan to take away the flash-drive – he was really inquisitive to find out what kind of data it held.

The magician snuck a peek at the wall clock. "It's ten-o'-clock, tantei-kun. What time are you supposed to be home?" He was okay on schedule…although he hadn't anticipated sleeping on Conan's lap for several hours.

Conan rolled his eyes, raising his eyebrows with a surprised-you-care expression. "Thank you for reminding me, phantom thief. Ran wants me back around noon, for lunch."

"Mind if I escort you, then?" Kid inquired considerately, acting his part. With a mocking smile, he held out a hand for Conan to take.

Grumbling, Conan relented. "But," he said firmly to the rejoicing thief, "it's only because I have no idea where to go, and no one close enough to pick me up."

A jaunty chuckle escaped Kid's mouth, bubbling with laughter. "Yes, sir!" he saluted teasingly. In an over-extravagant explosion of smoke, the magician rapidly changed, slipping into a simple disguise of an average, unnoticeable teenager.

"Shall he go?" he asked grandly, offering a hand. The boy declined to take it, showing his animosity with a scolding grimace.

But of course, the thief grabbed the small hand anyway. As if the child was a delicate, fragile, breakable object made out of glass, he gently assisted Conan's climb out of the window…which somehow reminded Shinichi of Kid's warmth…warmth that he was missing…a golden, soft, safe feeling…warmth that he wanted and needed…

Slowly, Shinichi dismissed the emotion into the back of his mind. Although something inside of him wilted…as the feeling gradually dissipated like a fading dream…Unable to shake the remnants of it off, it was he - he knew for sure - it was he who clung to the thief's hand, and not the thief who held it.

As the odd pair arrived at a bus stop, Conan's cell phone rang. "Hello, Haibara?" he answered, holding out a warning finger out to assure the magician's silence.

"Kudou-kun, have you found anything?" a high-pitched girl's asked impatiently, edged with anxiety. Last night, Conan had phoned her, telling her of the connection between the victim and the Black Organization. It had spooked her more badly than she wanted to admit, with the unasked question on both their minds: Are they going to kill again? "It's been taking you quite a while." She was worried, but forced her attitude to act irritated. Her worries were not amiss, however – they were the only ones who truly scared her.

Conan turned away from Kid, who was trying to over-hear their conversation. Lowering his voice, he said, "I think I found the formula." Enthusiasm thrilled in his shaky tone, as if he was a child opening a present on his birthday.

"What…?" the blonde girl gasped, disbelief ringing clearly. "You…that's…how…?" With trembling fingers, she scrabbled to keep a grasp on the phone, almost dropping it with shock. "But…"

"I didn't see them, actually. It's a long story," the child mumbled, glancing warily at an overly interested Kid. "I can't tell you it right now." Casting another uneasy, distrusting glimpse at the magician, Conan muttered, "Stupid thief stumbled on them talking about an important flash-drive. So he stole it from the man who had it."

There was a minute of silence, which Haibara broke. "Did you tell Kid anything?" she hissed, venom laced into every word. "It's dangerous," she said menacingly, an image of a dark-haired young woman flashing before her eyes. Onee-san…I won't let what happened to you happen to you happen to Kudou-kun.

"No," Conan said hurriedly, afraid of the girl's wrath, as always. He never could understand her…she was crazy. Although Kid was slightly crazier – did he want to be caught, pulling off all those ridiculous stunts? Not too evil, though…and his thoughts flickered back to early that morning…no, not again.

"Good," Haibara stated, calm – which made Shinichi more perplexed by her strange mood swings. "Tell me what happened later. And don't be late – Ran-chan will be angry if you're not there when she comes pick you up." There was a beep and a click.

With an exasperated shake of his head, Conan slipped his cell phone back into his pocket, half-relieved that their little exchange was over. Honestly, she was one confusing woman – insane.

"So, what did ojou-san say?" Kid questioned casually. Even though he had strained his ears, Conan had talked way too softly for him to hear.

The boy rubbed his forehead, looking eerily like a stressed adult. "You don't want to know." He could feel the weight of the previous proceedings rushing into him, reminding him of all the problems he would have to deal with. Ugh, his sleeplessness was catching up to him. Changing the subject purposely, he said, "So, why did you end up sleeping on top of me?"

"Honestly, I was tired," Kid said, without his usual trace of jibes. "Why do you ask? Don't tell me you were thinking dirty things," he said, pretending to be shocked, voice reverting to his usual, mocking manner.

"You-you pervert!" Conan choked, astonished. Of all the things…! He looked goddamned seven for god's sake! But even though Kid didn't know his actual age and identity, he treated Conan as an intellectual equal, which was much better compared to Kogoro's punches.

They both halted abruptly. "Here we are!" Kid announced cheerily, directing Conan to the door.

The thief wiggled out of his jacket, wrapping it around the boy tightly and carefully, concern in his violet eyes. "Don't catch a cold, alright? See you later, tantei-kun!" He was about to disappear in his customary cloud of smoke, until something stopped him.

Unpredictably, Conan grabbed the tail of Kid's shirt, fingers gripping the fabric. There was an odd look on his face. "Th-hank you," he whispered softly.

"Why are you always sad, tantei-kun?" Kid murmured suddenly, a wry grin spreading across his mouth. "I'm not talking about those smug smirks of yours, but…you never seem really happy. So…" the thief said, draping and fixing the jacket tighter around the detective, "smile for me!"

And Kid smiled at him – not a teasing grin – but a smile. Shinichi's heart skipped a beat for a moment, and a flush spread across his cheeks like fire.

In a flash of stunningly bright light, the thief vanished, leaving a white rose in his place.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Momoirobara

_When the bush warbler in a tree flies for the fair maidens, with flowers keeping away evil, I will come when February is added up, to take the sea's splendid treasure._

-Kaitou Kid (doodle.)

Kaitou Kid had scheduled yet another heist, sending out a heist note to the investigation squad. So far, all they had solved was what the target the thief was after – the 'sea's splendid treasure'.

The Suzuki Company had recently purchased a jewel named the Sea Sapphire, and were planning to display it at their ocean-side museum. As for the rest, Inspector Nakamori couldn't decipher, and had reluctantly enlisted for Mouri Kogoro's assistance. Of course, that meant Sonoko, the ultimate Kid fan maniac dragged Ran along, and so Conan had to accompany them.

"I have no chance whatsoever of catching Kid in this form," the bespectacled boy grumbled to Haibara. "Nobody listens to me, and when the crazy chase begins, nobody will let me join in. I have to sneak past them. And Mouri is so _stupid_." He glanced down at a copy of the heist note dejectedly – but who was he to talk, when he hadn't exactly solved the letter yet?

The blonde-haired girl rolled her eyes, barely looking up from the fashion magazine she was perusing. "Kudou-kun, none of that complaining will help me finish the antidote any faster. Even if we do return to our original states, we'll be caught and killed. It's-"

"Yeah, yeah, I know," the boy said, interrupting the conversation which had been repeated so many times in the past. "It's too dangerous, and it's easier to hide as children."

A week had past ever since Conan's encounter with Kaitou Kid. A memory flitted through Shinichi's mind as he recalled their previous dismay, when they were under a lot pressure. He had brought back the tiny device to Agasa's, and had gotten lectured by Haibara for associating with a thief (but he didn't tell her about the sleeping-on-his-lap part) and for possessing so much bad luck. And then, of course, there was the password…

_'Kudou-kun, we need to enter a password to open the files on this flash-drive,' Haibara stated, gesturing to the computer screen. 'Do you have any idea what it may be?'_

'How many tries do we get?' Conan glanced disdainfully at the flash-drive, knowing full well that if they couldn't enter the correct password, it was possible a virus would activate, wiping the device clean of any information.

'Two, I believe. Think, Kudou-kun – what could it be?' The blonde girl frowned, deep in thought, hands hovering uncertainly over the keyboard.

'Okay,' Conan replied. He had to be sure of himself – it would be disastrous if he wasted a guess. 'Well, the password you used to open some files before was detective-related. APTX 4869, the experimental detective - Shelling Ford.'

'I don't think that they would use the same password as before. It's too obvious.'

"Give it a try, I guess."

Rapidly, Haibara keyed in the word, and entered it. With a bated breath, they waited…and groaned simultaneously. Red letters read below it, 'The password you have entered is incorrect.'

'Maybe it has something to do with the murdered man,' Conan guessed. 'His name was Masaru Lewis – he was half-Japanese, half-English. Any detectives in particular come to mind?'

'Was he a member of the Organization?' Haibara asked, wondering what he may have done that added him on the Organization's hit list, and how the man was able to lay his hands of information about the APTX 4869.

The boy nodded. 'He was – I overheard some of their conversation through a bug I planted – although he wasn't too deeply involved. He probably got too scared to go on with whatever they wanted him to do for him, and may have wanted to go to the police. He became a criminal by working for them, but betrayed them.' Suddenly, Conan froze, and his eyes widened. 'I think I know…!'

'A detective somehow related to him?'

'There is one. His initials are M.L. as well, and he started out as against the law but later decided to change. Do you know him…? The 'Mister Rooster', the man who Sherlock Holmes himself called a 'miserable bungler'?' Conan's eyes sharpened and narrowed, flashing triumphantly.

Slowly, Haibara began to nod, understanding who the boy was referring to. 'I see.' She placed her fingers on the keyboard, carefully typing out thirteen letters.

MONSIEUR LECOQ.

The screen flashed as Haibara pressed the enter key, bringing up a window with file folders.

They were in.  
  
Haibara had found a plentiful amount of data about the APTX 4869, detailing the research and observations recorded. But there was a painful quantity of information to filter through, and she needed time to create the antidote.

"Give me a month or two," she had remarked, scrutinizing each and every word on the screen, while jotting down a couple of notes occasionally.

A month until the cure was finally developed. It would take be a month until he returned to his normal life, even if it was a short while. And at the very most, he would have his seventeen-year old body back. Which mean going into hiding and being on the run…

No, think of that later. Right now, he needed to solve Kid's notice. Bit by bit, he studied every single part of it very carefully as he walked to the Mouri Detective Agency, where they were preparing to leave for the Suzuki Museum.

"Okay, bush warbler in a tree…fair maidens…flowers keeping away evil…February added up. I think those are the key words," he said out loud to himself. "The oddest one is February – the month is March, after all. There is twenty-eight days in March, but I don't think that's it. Are there any holidays or significant events coming up?

"Wait a minute – fair maidens, basically, girls! March 3rd is Children's Day, specifically for girls. So he'll be coming on the 3rd." Conan paused to scribble in a few notes down on a small notepad, giving himself a congratulatory nod.

Suddenly, he remembered Ayumi's conversation with Haibara in class.

_'Ai-chan,' a little black haired girl asked, 'are you starting to decorate your house yet? If not, I can help.' She gave her blonde-haired friend a shy smile, eyes bright with excitement._

'Decorating…for what, Ayumi-chan?' Haibara questioned, wrinkling her forehead as she tried to remember.

'For the Doll Festival, silly – don't tell me you forgot! Okaa-san has these great doll sets at home that's been in our family for forr-evver!' The child emphasized the last word with long syllables, spreading her arms out wide as if the distance represented the time period the objects had been passed down. 'And all those pretty flowers, too!'

The Doll Festival on Children's Day was usually celebrated with _ume_ blossoms, or plum blossoms. Traditionally, they were planted north-east of a garden, where they warded, or _kept away evil_. So, Shinichi concluded, Kid would approach them from the north-east direction.

There was two more parts to solve: bush warbler in a tree, and February added up. The other clues had directed him to the date, direction, and target. Logically, the last should include time. Somehow, some of the clues were related, perhaps – did they share something in common, and were linked together by that something? There was something familiar about some of those elements; he'd seen them together somewhere.

Frustrated, he gritted his teeth together, grinding them against each other. There had to be something he knew that would help him solve this…but as to exactly what it was, he was at a total loss.

Maybe if he examined more about the bush warbler section: _Uguisu_, _haru-dori_ (bird of spring), _haru-tsuge-dori _(bird announcing spring), _uta-yomi-dori_ (poetry reading bird)…no, none of that really helped. He was over-thinking it all…

…wait a minute…maybe, it was possible. Kid liked playing cards, didn't he? What if some of the elements were figures on a playing card? Not a usual deck of cards…_hanafuda_ cards! There were twelve suits in a deck, each card being represented by a month and a flower.

Easily, Shinichi discarded any other possibilities, zeroing in on one particular suit. It was represented by the month, _February_, and the designated flower was _plum blossoms_. One special card was decorated with a _bush warbler in a tree_.

There were four different types of the card: two normal (one point), one poetry ribbon (five points) and one special: bush warbler in a tree (ten points)…all of the points added up was 16! It all fit! So at 16:00, or 4:00 P.M., Kid would arrive.

It all came down to this: On March 3rd, coming from the north-east direction at 4:00 P.M., Kaitou Kid would come to try and steal the Sea Sapphire. But damn it, he had to admit, Kid was certainly clever with his riddles, even if the man himself was crazy.

-o-o-o-o-o-o

"God damn it, wake up, please wake up…" a young man hissed between his teeth, gloved hands slowly pumping at a little boy's damp chest. Panic and concern shone clearly on his face, even evident behind an eye, hidden behind a monocle. His usual top hat and a cape were strewn carelessly to the side, leaning against rotting, moldy walls.

The child let a weak cough, spurting out a tiny puddle of water out of his lips. For a second, the man felt relieved, but still, the child's breath remained rather faint. With a renewed sense of urgency, he bent down closer to the boy's deathly pale face.

…what…what was going on…? The boy's eyes flickered open for a second, stinging with salt. …it was so hard to keep awake…so hard to breathe…water…

Suddenly, warm, soft lips covered his own, breathing in large breaths of air into his lungs. Oxygen rushed into his system, filling up his own deprived supply. With a spasm of pain, the child buckled over, hacking and coughing, gasps deepening, coming out fast. A stream of water burst out from his stomach, and he leaned over to the side, retching and vomiting.

Gagging and sputtering at the salty tang of water, the boy struggled to sit up, feeling weak. With a trembling hand, he reached up to touch the silky mouth that had brought him back to life, a small wet finger stroking them gently. Violet eyes widened in surprise, then narrowed in understanding, mouth curving upwards into a smile.

The child allowed his hand to fall to the side limply, still panting, trying to return his erratic rhythm of exhaling and inhaling back into their usual pace. Gloved hands slid his head gently onto the young man's lap, intertwining and knotting themselves into strands of the boy's soaked hair.

Desperately, the boy known as Edogawa Conan struggled to stay conscious as he was beginning to black out. His vision cleared and blurred, before deciding to settle on the latter. His head was aching and pounding, and the world was spinning and his mind was dizzy…he balled his fists together, nails digging sharply into his palm as he tried to stay awake.

Soothingly, gloved hands uncurled the boy's clenched fists, and a husky voice whispered, "Sleep, tantei-kun. Everything is going to be fine. Just relax. I'm right here. Sleep, tantei-kun."

Before fainting once again, Conan gazed at the young man with penetrating deep blue eyes, filled with gratitude and appreciation and…something else. The young man felt a shiver go through his body at the intensity of the stare, goose-pumps pervading throughout. And not for the last time, he wondered what kind of person tantei-kun actually was. But for the moment, he dismissed the thought – Edogawa Conan was only a brilliant seven-year old genius detective, that was all…but there was a nagging feeling that told him that the boy was hiding some sort of big secret.

As for the situation right now…Kaitou Kid was more unsettled than how he looked, actually. In reality, he had been trembling under the pressure of administering CPR, hands shaking and face chalk white. Tantei-kun had almost died. Tantei-kun had almost died…! Just one mistake, just one single error, and the boy's life would have slipped out of his grasp.

God damn it, it was his entire fault. He should have made sure the child would be safe for his heist, and should have taken many more precautions. Of course, tantei-kun had to corner him in a secluded area…

Where…where the boy had stumbled over rocks on a small cliff's ledge…plunging into the deep ocean…body slapping against the tide…completely submerged. The child sinking into the murky depths…and he dove in, waves roaring in his ears, tide pushing him back…and yet he pushed forward and reached out…bubbles forming as he took a strained breath, lungs bursting as he resurfaced, cradling tantei-kun close to his chest…

He was so foolish, so _stupid_. One of his detectives could have died, and the blame would rightly fall upon him. Noticing the child's slight shivers, Kaito carefully removed his jacket suit, revealing a blue button down shirt underneath. Quietly, he used the white jacket suit as a blanket for the exhausted detective, repositioning the boy's head to a more comfortable position on his legs.

Realizing he, too, was fatigued from his swim, he slept, a smile curling onto his lips as he recollected the time when_ he_ was the one who slumbered on tantei-kun's lap.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"I'm sorry, Kid." Abashed, Conan tried to avoid Kid's gaze, averting his stares elsewhere. Instead, he examined their surroundings, deducing that they were in an old warehouse or storehouse, abandoned approximately one to two years ago, according to its state of decay. They were still near the ocean, so perhaps the building was used to store any materials used in sea trade. He could see rocky sand outside of a shattered window, the sound of waves thundering in the distance. Distractedly, he observed a spider crawl lazily up a gossamer web, legs scuttling across the rotting floorboards until it slipped through a crack in the floor.

"Sorry for what, tantei-kun?" Kid croaked, his usual, smooth tone stuck in the back of his throat. "It's my fault, that's all. It's not yours." Absentmindedly, he fingered the lucky four leaf clover charm dangling on his monocle. He had already replaced his top hat, cape, and suit, even if their condition was rather worse for wear.

Taken aback, Conan sighed, running a hand through his sticky-salt hair, which was still in the process of drying. "I was the one who tripped. And I didn't tell anyone where I was going." Frowning, he inspected his bowtie, trying to shake the water that had seeped through the machinery, making a mental note to remember to inform the professor to fix it.

"I don't like my detectives getting hurt," the magician said softly. "Nobody gets hurt at my heists." Especially with Snake taking potshots at him - if he could help it, he would make sure the man would not kill another. The man murdered his father, after all.

His voice crisp, the boy said dryly, "I can take care of myself fine, thank you." Even if he did have a child's body, he was technically ten years older. He wasn't dumb – he was a detective.

"_You_. _Almost_. _Drowned_," Kid said angrily, whipping around to face Conan, punctuating each word with a sharp growl. "You could have died." Hands trembling, his violet eyes blazed, glaring daggers at the child. "I should…should have made sure you didn't go anywhere near the water. I should have…_I should have protected you_."

…why did it hurt so much? Shinichi thought. Why did the resentment in his eyes soften, his chest throb…? Why was he willing to do anything that would brighten up Kid's guilty expression, to do anything that could make the thief happy? Maybe he was just unused to seeing Kid mad – the thief had always worn that infuriating, mocking grin on his face, after all…

Through the thin, crumbling whitewashed walls, he could hear the squawk of a seagull, and the waves continuing to wash to the shore and return. The scent of salt hung in the air, subtly reminding Shinichi of his near death yesterday evening. Both he and Kid were silent, looking at everything except each other.

Finally, Conan spoke up quietly. "Don't worry about me. It may not end up well." Yeah…that was right – he was prepared for the worst. He wasn't too much of a pessimist like Haibara, but he knew how much danger he could be in if the Black Organization found out about him. Through a fissure in the deteriorating walls, wind breezed through, rippling his dark bangs and revealing his silent, but determined blue eyes. Just like he easily came upon death, death could find him, stealing him away from the world.

"I don't trust many people," the boy murmured. If he did, they could die. Quickly and mysteriously, _they_ would slink under cracks of closed doors like the snakes they were, sinking their poisonous, venomous fangs into the necks of the most protected victims. They had rather sharp teeth and more scales than one might imagine…

Kid took a deep, uneasy breath. "You're hiding something, aren't you?" With a narrowed eye, he studied the child's face. Tantei-kun…was different. There was something about him that didn't seem exactly right, something that didn't make the child seem _real_, for lack of a better word. But behind the detective's childish mask, there seemed to be an adult mind, a brilliant, intelligent, curious mind that may have seen too much. Exactly of what, he wasn't too sure – but there was something strange about the boy.

"Yeah, I am," Conan breathed. "But aren't we all?" He raised a sardonic eyebrow at the phantom thief. "I know…many things. Many things that should remain buried in the hole they are hidden in, for the time being. Things that should remain uncovered…" Trailing off, he blinked several times, and he turned to meet Kid's violet gaze. "Please stay away from that tempting shovel. That's really not the best way to find answers."

On the tip of his tongue, a question slipped out of the thief's mouth, and he impulsively blurted it out loud. "Does it have anything to do with that flash-drive I gave you last week?"

Instantly, the boy's expression darkened and became more guarded, as if a shadow had moved across the sun. "Perhaps…" Unsatisfied by the vague answer, Kid let out an aggravated gust of air mentally, but he knew the detective couldn't be budged any further. Tantei-kun was too stubborn and arrogant like that – he had, after all, confronted an internationally wanted criminal _alone_.

Unable to keep the wry, contradicting fondness out of his voice, the thief muttered, "Stupid tantei-kun. I saved your life, after all – can't you show some gratitude?"

"I'm not ungrateful," Conan retorted, snorting loudly. "It's just one of the risks of being a detective. I'm not completely helpless, you know." He wasn't ready to die…yet…for now, he would survive, at least to bring the Black Organization down. At least until then…

"Then how come I don't hear a 'thank you'?"

Cool relief tingled in Shinichi's body, washing over him like a splash of water. They had reverted back into their usual back and forth banter, without the previous moment's tension. He knew Kid was more than capable of finding out his identity, solid evidence or not, but he had managed to steer the magician away from finding out, at least for the present. Underneath his lighthearted manner, Kid possessed brilliant, unpredictable genius, whose existence Shinichi acknowledged.

"…I'll think about it," the boy grumbled.

Tenaciously, Kid continued quarrelling, with obstinate insistence. "You thanked me last week." Amusement glimmered in his eyes.

The child objected, "Because you gave me the flash-drive."

"I jumped in the water, and gave you CPR. A flash-drive is worth more than a life?"

Sorrow clouded Conan's eyes. It _is_ my life, he thought. Kudou Shinichi died when he ingested APTX 4869, leaving Edogawa Conan in his place. Sure, he could change back, but it was only temporary. If Haibara was able to use the information from the flash-drive to successfully create a cure…then he would have his life back.

How odd it was – to pin all of his hopes on a flash-drive given to him by a thief, and a scientist he had originally distrusted and despised. Everything had changed every since that day in Tropical Land. It had changed him. And yet, even if he could go back and time, he would _still_ do the same thing. He would try to confront them, even if it meant becoming Conan. His sense of justice was too strong for him to resist – no matter what. But still…_still_…there always, _always_ was pain.

He knew how it felt to be alone and to keep secrets, feeding lies to everyone around him. He knew how it felt to wake up, sweating, from death-filled nightmares, wanting to cry, but could not. He knew how it felt to have people relying on you, consciously or unconsciously, on purpose or accidently, even if he doubted that he could make everything fine. He knew how it felt to be ignored, to have his words and insights disregarded, to have to dispel suspicions directed towards him…

…the only thing that came out of this was a fear, anger, and a severe loss of self-esteem.

Did the old Kudou Shinichi even exist anymore? What happened to the arrogant, young teenager, obsessed with Sherlock Holmes, soccer, and mysteries? Who was this sad, small child, who, no matter how one looks at it, is alone? What happened to the bright, childish excitement that lighted up his blue eyes…only to be replaced with the darkening eyes of a suffering man, trapped by death?

Who was he, really? Did he want to turn back to Kudou Shinichi, only to be hounded by darkness? Did he want to stay as Edogawa Conan, existing in a life made out of lies?

And then there was_ them_. Everything seemed to come back to them. They were not to be overlooked…

So…what would he do and what could he do? For now…nothing… Maybe later, he would make the right choice…maybe later; something would help him make up his mind. But who was there to understand him, and help him choose?

There were so many people around him, who were important, some way or another. But they couldn't be of any assistance him. There was nobody…right? And for some reason he couldn't fathom, he could hear Kid's voice ringing in his ears, saying, _'I should have protected you.'_

The magician's spoke up, breaking Shinichi out of his reverie. "Tantei-kun, you're bleeding." He indicated the boy's right hand, where the child had dug his nails into last night.

Not having realized it, Conan blinked, and studied it briefly. Tiny drops of scarlet blood nestled in their half-moon piercings, oozing dark red. "It's fine," he dismissed. He had endured greater wounds before, and a couple of cuts were no big deal.

Kid frowned. "But it must sting. You probably got salt water all over it." Leaning down, the thief took the small hand into his larger ones, inspecting it carefully. Still wary, Conan watched the magician carefully, flinching slightly as Kid ran a gloved finger over it. "See, it does hurt!"

"Yeah, but it won't kill me." Really, why did Kid have to worry about him? There was no need for a fuss. He was _seventeen_, for god's sake…! Oh, right – Kid didn't know that.

With an exasperated groan, Kid suddenly held the hand up to his mouth, sticking out his tongue, and lapping at the child's palm. Immediately, Conan's eyes grew wide as saucers and he jerked back his hand quickly, stunned. "_What the hell are you doing?_" he yelped, a warm flush rising up his cheeks.

Idiot thief…moron…_with such a warm, wet, nimble tongue, licking on his skin softly…trailing up and down, back and forth…saliva left behind in its tracks…soft like velvet_…no, no, no, no! What was he thinking? Shut up, shut up, shut up, he chanted in his head repetitively, like a mantra.

"Getting the blood off, tantei-kun – what else?"

It really got on Shinichi's nerves the way the thief said it so matter-of-factly, so nonchalantly. Lowering his tone, he growled, "Do it some other way."

"No fair," Kid sulked, as if hurt.

He knew the thief was teasing him, that the magician was just messing with him again…but god damn it, why did his heart have to speed up again…but there wasn't any harm in letting Kid_ tend_ to the cuts, was there?…it was kind of nice…and good, _really_ good…yeah, why not…?

...he really, really hated himself right now…_but_…and barely knowing what he was doing, Conan thrust his hand forward out to Kid, holding it out. When he felt Kid's tongue on his skin again, his thoughts and words lost coherency…

…and there was Kid, wondering why tantei-kun was acting so flustered. The boy was only seven years old…right? Sure, he was a thief, and tantei-kun was a detective, but the child never seemed to act his age.

…but then again, he never really truly saw tantei-kun as a child. He looked past appearances and ages, and his battle was only with the mind inside the body. He respected and admired tantei-kun's brilliance very much, almost too much. And whenever he remembered the boy, all he saw was the child's probing blue eyes – they were the only things that seemed genuine.

Kaito could easily imagine tantei-kun as an adult. There was something wrong, clearly, even though he couldn't quite put his finger on it.

"I should take you home soon," the magician murmured, pulling back and away from the detective. Shinichi fought back a protest from bursting through his lips, mourning at the loss of pressure.

"Y-yeah," Conan agreed unenthusiastically, looking slightly dazed. "Are they worried?"

A smile tugged at the thief's mouth. "Even though I didn't kidnap you on purpose, they're kicking up quite the fuss. What was I supposed to do, leave you there, hoping somebody would find you? Or try and take you to them? – and if I did, you would probably would be gone by then."

"How do you know what's going on?"

"When you were sleeping, I snuck out and left a note, telling them that I was taking care of you, and you were okay. It didn't help much, however," Kid added ruefully. "Tantei-han came from Osaka as fast as he could. He, tantei-san, and our good Nakamori-keibu, were arguing like mad, and probably still are."

Conan chortled loudly. "I'm sure the children in your fan crowd learned many new words that night."

"Even the adults," the magician put in solemnly. "Nakamori-keibu's daughter washed her father's mouth with soap. And that girl wearing ribbons was pretty rough on tantei-han."

Well, Hattori deserved that, Shinichi thought. He didn't even know his own feelings towards Kazuha, being the clueless hot-blooded person he was. Wait a minute…there was somebody he had forgotten, wasn't there? Oh, yeah, that's right. "How's Ran-neechan?"

The thief considered the question for a moment, before answering, "Crying, yelling, and trying to call her boyfriend."

The boy immediately gave the young man a fierce glare. "Shinichi-niichan is not her boyfriend." Weird…why was he able to say that without blushing this time, or feeling embarrassed at all? Quickly, he changed the subject – it was too difficult to talk about himself with a straight face, without being uncomfortable. "What did your note say, by the way?"

"Something like this:

T_o my adoring fans and not-so-adoring police officers, detectives, and others,_

I know that you've probably started getting worried about my cute little tantei-kun. Well, he's been a bit reckless and tried to capture me alone. I'm quite disappointed that he was the only one to solve my riddle – really, tantei-san, your brain must be rotting – it must have something to do with your fashion sense. Maybe I should fix that…

Anyways, we can be clumsy at times, and accidents can happen. To say it once, I did not purposely harm Edogawa Conan. I do not want anyone to get hurt, detective or not. Don't worry your pretty little heads about him; he's safely in my care. What do you think I am, some kind of common crook? I am a gentleman thief, repeat the word gentleman, underline it twice, please, and bold it.

I'll give him back in due time, as long as I'm sure he's recovered enough. I've gotten him out of the danger zone, by the way.

Sincerely,

Kaitou Kid (doodle.)."

Conan's eyes bulged out. "Why the hell did you have to say _that_?" Astonished, he gaped at Kaitou Kid, mouth dropped open wide.

Coolly, Kid responded, "Say what, the thing about tantei-san? It's true - I am going to rid his closet of all those stupid inverse coats and plaid hats. Sure, he's got a couple of suits, but really –"

Shinichi resisted the action of banging his head against the wall. If he did, it would probably collapse. "No, why did you have to call me _cute_? I'm not some sort of puppy or something!"

"Meh," the thief shrugged. "Anyways, we should leave. Tantei-san and tantei-han have teamed up a while ago, albeit reluctantly, so they'll be nearing the solution of my heist note, and they'll have an idea where to look. They'll sweep the northeast coastline, and would obviously discover this old warehouse. We have to go."

Kaitou Kid turned a rusting door knob, and pushed open the door. With a nod, Conan followed, surprised at the cold weather that greeted him. Cautiously, the child made sure he tread the ground where nothing sharp would poke through his shoes, avoiding sandy rocks and sharp shell fragments. He soundlessly tromped through patches of dying grass, wrinkling his nose at the scent of rotting seaweed.

Shinichi felt a rush of weariness tear through him, and he almost stumbled and fell onto the sand, when the magician caught him, arms steadying his shoulders. "Still tired, tantei-kun?"

"I don't think I'll be able to walk very far," Conan admitted. Strong arms suddenly lifted him up, one wrapping under his legs and another around his back, supporting his body.

"I'll carry you, then," Kid coaxed. "You can't force yourself to walk, you know. You haven't even had anything to eat or drink yet."

Alright, then – fine…he just…he just didn't mind when Kid touched him, or when he touched Kid…even if it was the slightest stroke of physical contact, even if it was the merest brush of skin...he liked it. It made him feel _alive_, instead of just a mind in a body that wasn't his – it made him feel like he had a solid form and shape…even if it was the tiniest breath that ghosted over him, and even if it was a brief, lingering caress…everything felt _warm_.

With a contented sigh, the child curled up in Kid's arms, burying his face in the man's shoulders, listening to the sound of the thief's heartbeats. He counted each one, each rise and fall of the magician's chest as he took a breath…seven…eight…nine…ten…eleven…twelve…thirt-

Shinichi's eyelids slowly slid shut, the sound of the ocean still echoing in his ears.

* * *

* * *


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Asagao or Shiragiku, Part 1

There's something in this world that Shinichi stands by, that he breaks, and that he keeps. He holds them close, and tries to fulfill them; he tries to remember them, and then he forgets. He tries, he really tries, to uphold them, and yet, they slip by, and it seems as if they never belonged to him. It's like reaching out to grab mist with his bare hands, clutching at the wisps of fog desperately…only to have the hazy vapor escape on the tips of his fingers.

Promises, that's what. Promises help him look forward and move forward, to stay in his situation without becoming insane, to have a meaning to his life, to have a purpose to exist. Like a beacon of light, they guide him towards the answers of his questions, towards the goal of his struggles. Promises…can break him. They can torment him, reminding him that he can't, he couldn't, keep to his own word, taunting him of his disloyalty and dishonesty.

No matter how much he tries, he knows that he must let go of them, someday. There always, always is an incomplete promise in the world, perhaps made to another person, perhaps made to oneself, perhaps made to both. That was the thing about humans – they weren't perfect. Some ideals can never to be accomplished, and that was the bitter truth.

Truth…ha, how ironic…

He believed in one truth, the only one truth that prevailed and won, only one truth that could be revealed, and the one truth that was right. But…what if that was wrong? He shouldn't have been the one to choose judgment…what gave him that right? It seemed…so blunt. There was more - there was more than words, than just sentences, than just paragraphs, of the truth. Wasn't there feelings and emotions? Wasn't there more than one way of describing something, wasn't there more to 'one truth'?

Maybe he could understand the motive, maybe he could understand their drive…but he only looked at it in a scientific and analytical view. He would think no more of the suffering, of the pain, of the psychology…well, he would a little, but he treated them as a test subject to study.

But how would he feel if he was in there situation? But Shinichi…he couldn't understand why a murderer would kill, he couldn't feel their emotions. He could sympathize with the murderer, sometimes, in tragic cases…but…why didn't he feel human?

They were wrong, he was sure. They shouldn't kill; they shouldn't take a life, because that would solve nothing. Bloodshed was never the answer, and led to more tragedy. What were the other answers, then? Was there not one truth, but many?

Did he see the world too literally? Did he not look deep enough into everything, past the solid shades of black and white, past science and deduction, to observe the shades of gray? Did he reach high enough to comprehend human sensations?

Well, if he knew the answers, he had forgotten them, or had never known…if only there was somebody right beside him, who he could confide in, somebody precious and important. If somebody like that did exist for him, then he would try and stay by their side forever. And so he made a new promise to himself, swearing that he would never break it, even if it killed him.

In his sleep, Edogawa Conan stirred silently. "Kid…" he murmured. "Kid…"

A single tear trickled down from the boy's eyes, wetting and damping dark lashes. A quiet whimper escaped the child's mouth, making him, for once, sound like frightened, lost seven-year old. It was a heart wrenching, captivating sight – to see someone who never cried, to finally do, at least for once…

…and a sudden impulse beckoned Kaito to tilt the boy's head to slant toward his own…bending his head down to silently pass his lips across the closed eye, kissing away the single teardrop…

For a second, the eye fluttered open, glassy light blue, and glazed with weariness. But it soon closed, deciding that that it was all just a dream…

Shinichi's nightmares took a happier turn.

-o-o-o-o-o-o-

"Ku-Conan-kun, wake up!" a loud voice yelled, shaking the child's body back and forth rigorously, with a little more than necessary force. "It's me, Hattori."

"Wha-?" the boy mumbled, slowly awaking. "Hattori…?" Gradually, his fatigued sense cleared, plunging him back to his usual sense of awareness.

Soon, he could make out a large room, with many tables and chairs around. Some tables were cluttered with paperwork and files, with officers hovering over them, lounging around in the chairs. Nearby, he recognized Nakamori and Kaitou Kid's investigation squad, keeping a close eye on him, and at the same time, trying to reassure a panicking Suzuki-san.

"Kid took the jewel…will you be able to recover it? What! You have to wait until he returns it?" Conan caught snatches of the conversation, alternating between Suzuki's vexed tone as the man wiped his sweaty brow with a soggy handkerchief, and Nakamori's we'll-catch-that-bastard-next-time one.

Looking down, he realized he was comfortably reclined on a bench, covered with a blanket. Detecting a certain odor in the air, the detective noted that the thief had most likely gassed the entire room, putting everybody to sleep before dropping the child off. Hattori and Hakuba Saguru were seated in chairs next to him, waiting for his full account of the events which had occurred with an expectant air.

The blond detective started speaking first, wanting answers at once. "Edogawa-kun, can you please recount your experiences with Kid? You have been missing from last evening to this morning, and we have been quite concerned about your welfare."

"Yeah," the Osakan detective pitched in curiously, "the note that he left fer us said that you were hurt. What exactly happened?" The dark skinned man scratched his head, and re-adjusted his hat uncomfortably. It had been hell – not only had he worked for many long hours, the person he had to work with was Hakuba!

Uneasy, Conan shuddered under Hakuba's searching stares. The half-Brit would probably sense there was something wrong about him if he displayed too much intelligence…but how should he act? He definitely didn't want Hakuba, or anyone else, for that matter, to discover his true identity. But how could he explain the fact that he solved a heist note that nobody but himself and Kid knew the answer to? And Hakuba would be smart enough to catch him if he lied.

…solution: try and fake his way through everything. Hopefully the blond would buy it, even though he wouldn't bet on it. Just pretend to be a child genius, he chided himself, don't act like a teenager.

Taking a deep breath, the bespectacled boy started, "I saw the heist note from Oji-san. It took me awhile to solve it, but soon enough, I decoded the riddle. The message was: On March 3rd, coming from the north-east direction at 4:00 P.M., Kaitou Kid would come to try and steal the Sea Sapphire."

Quietly, Hakuba began to nod. "I see. That makes sense. Go on." Hattori shot Conan a confused glance, about to say something definitely starting with 'Kudou', but was silenced by the child's harsh frown, directed solely at him.

"I wanted to catch Kid myself," Conan confessed, although clearly not looking guilty enough. It was his choice, and he was capable of making his own decisions. "So I decided to not tell anyone else. The police usually got in the way - causing a lot of ruckus, and that made it easier for Kid to steal his target, and escape. I found a map of the vicinity, and after studying it carefully, I pinpointed where Kid could fly from. Narrowing it down from a location north-east, I located an ideal spot – a place where it was dark, it was isolated, and easy to access.

"I was lucky – I didn't have to walk too far until I finally found him. But the problem was, the sun was setting, and it was getting dark. I wasn't able to see so well, or exactly where I was going so…" The boy paused, hesitating indecisively. "There were a lot of rocks, and I guess I must've tripped or something into the ocean, because the next thing I knew, I couldn't breathe. And then I blacked out."

Hattori let out a sharp intake of breath. "So that thief musta gotten you out of the water." Geez, now Kudou owed the man – the thief had saved his life! But that was just like Kaitou Kid – he didn't want anyone to get hurt, even if he did act annoying. Hakuba only watched the boy attentively, taking in every word.

Conan's cheeks flared and reddened for a brief moment, before he muttered, "He gave me CPR. And we talked for a little while, and I fell asleep. Then I woke up here." There were some sections of their discussion that had to be avoided – mainly about the flash-drive, and his warnings made towards the thief to not involve himself with Conan. But some of it seemed private…like the way Kaitou Kid was so protective of him that it was definitely abnormal… and then…there was that other thing, of course…The color rose to his face before he was able to force in to die down.

Hakuba narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "Oh? You talked to him?" He raised an eyebrow inquisitively, looking pointedly at the fidgeting child.

Conan's brain scrambled desperately, trying to clutch at any excuse available. "It was just the usual," he babbled. "He was lecturing me for doing something dangerous, and teasing me, too."

The half-Brit continued to eye him impassively. Something didn't seem right…that wasn't the entire story. The boy was hiding something. Hattori tilted his head sideways at Conan, his expression saying, 'Tell me what happened later, Kudou.' Conan met the Osakan's gaze, and inclined his head a fraction in response.

…none of them were fools, much to Shinichi's extreme irritation. Mine as well tell Hattori about the flash-drive – it had to do about the Black Organization, and the APTX 4869. Although the dark-skinned man could be quite annoying, he was a friend of sorts. But great…just great…Hakuba was a persistent idiot. It would be impossible to shake off the blonde's relentless accusations. Shinichi at least agreed with Kid about that.

Why did this world have to be full of detective/thief/scientist geniuses? And why did they always manage to find a way to drive him mad?

"Is that all?" Hakuba questioned skeptically. Shinichi could sense the man's intention of trying to urge him into telling the truth. Like he would tell Hakuba about everything that happened to him…although he wouldn't mind too much – for once, the half-Brit could live a perilous, difficult life, getting involved with things he couldn't handle…no, that was too cruel, no matter how tempting it seemed.

A police officer walked by, allowing Conan to catch a whiff of coffee contained in the man's mug. His empty stomach grumbled, and he realized that he hadn't eaten or drank for quite an amount of time. With a ravenous stare, he looked up at the two teenagers and piped up, "Saguru-niisan, Heiji-niisan, I'm hungry."

At least that would stall him for time, and he could explain the previous circumstances to Hattori. Perhaps he would eventually come up with a convincing excuse to use on Hakuba, although he severely doubted it.

Soon enough, a purchase of onigiri was made at a close convenience store, and the food was delivered dully to the boy, of which he devoured voraciously, sticky grains of rice sticking to the corners of his mouth. (At first, the officers wanted to offer him the food prepared at the station cafeteria. Knowing all too well the quality cafeteria cooking offered, Hattori managed to persuade them to get the child something else. And this made Conan profoundly grateful.)

Hattori and Conan slid over to a far-off table, so they could be by themselves, to talk in private. "Kudou, what happened with Kaitou Kid?"

After a couple of mouthfuls of onigiri, and a swallow, Conan explained, "Last time we met, he gave me a flash-drive. It contained the APTX 4869 formula. He doesn't know anything about the Black Organization or me though," he said quickly, in response to the teenager's livid, but quizzical expression.

"Didja get that scientist...um, Miyano-san, right?" The child nodded. "Didja get her to work on the cure?"

"Yeah, Haibara said for a little more than a month or so, and it might be finished. But if I return to my original body, I'll have to go into hiding. I hate to admit it," Conan sighed, "but she's got a point. It's easier to hide as a child than as Kudou Shinichi. I really want to be seventeen, though," he muttered wistfully, balling up the discarded onigiri plastic wrappings. It was so different, so odd, to act as seven.

"Anythin' else?" Hattori queried. Geez, he thought, poor guy. He hadta deal with a whole bunch of cases, meanin' dartin' Mouri on a daily basis. And o'course, Kudou liked Nee-chan a lot.

"Kid's getting suspicious of me," Conan warned quietly. "He knows I'm hiding something. I'm sure he's noticed it, more than Hakuba has."

At the single mention of the half-Brit's name, Hattori flared up. "Jes ignore that idiot! Don't let 'im get to you. He's such a smug, stupid bastard, calling me 'hot-blooded' an' all." Under his breath, the teenager began launching out a stream of insults and curses.

Silently, Shinichi sweat dropped. Didn't Hattori's outburst prove the blonde's point? At least with Hattori defending him, he would have an easier time fending off any of Hakuba's accusations.

Speak of the devil, the detective was approaching them, expecting immediate answers. "Edogawa-kun, did you enjoy your meal?" the man asked politely, seating himself in a chair adjacent to the pair.

"Sure," Conan answered, knowing full well what was coming next – an interrogation, which was to be masked as simple conversation and questions. With careful aim, he tossed the onigiri wrappers into a nearby wastebasket, satisfied when it thudded softly downwards. Deciding to not beat around the bush any longer he said, tone innocent, "You want to ask me more about what happened, Saguru-niichan?"

Getting straight to the point, Hakuba said calmly, "I have reasons to doubt your version of what happened. I believe you may be withholding something pertaining of sufficient importance to the police. It would be easy if you comply with my request."

Angrily, Hattori thundered, "Are you threatening him? Hakuba, you-"

"'Whatever, in connection with my professional service, or not in connection with it, I see or hear, in the life of men, which ought not to be spoken of abroad, I will not divulge, as reckoning that all such should be kept secret,'" Conan quoted quietly in English, eyes hidden behind the thick lenses of his glasses.

The half-Brit's eyes widened, as he recognized a section of the Hippocratic Oath being recited by the so-called child. "The truth," he reminded the boy firmly, trying to keep his voice even. "Edogawa-kun, you are a witness, therefore, you must present the evidence."

Sherlock Holmes himself had said, after all, 'Data! Data! Data! I can't make bricks without clay!' Shinichi pitied Hakuba to a certain extent – how would he feel if he was presented with a witness who refused to testify? Pretty damn frustrated, especially if the witness may have encountered essential proofs.

But he still kept his mouth shut.

With an all-too-familiar grin, Conan smirked, blue eyes flashing, "You are a detective, ne, tantei-san? It's your job to figure out the truth."

At the comical sight of the blonde's infuriated glower, Hattori choked back a guffaw.

-o-o-o-o-o-

It was a cinch to make everybody but Hakuba believe that Edogawa Conan was just an innocent child, and a little-smarter-than-average detective.

Ran and Kazuha rushed to the police station after receiving a call from the inspector, exceedingly upset and relieved. A grumpy Mouri Kogoro drudged listlessly behind them, obviously forced to come.

The pungent scent of cigarette smoke swirled in the air as the middle-aged detective breathed in its toxic fumes, before his daughter snatched it out of his hands.

Outraged, Ran exclaimed, "'Tou-san, don't smoke! Conan-kun is still recovering, and he wouldn't like that disgusting smell." Besides them, Nakamori hastily put out his own cigar, pocketing it before the dark-haired girl noticed him. ("Just like my daughter," the inspector grumbled under his breath.)

The gruff inspector directed the group to a table where Hakuba, Hattori, and Conan occupied, deep in the midst of their own debate. They didn't notice the newcomers staring at them.

"Jes shut up already, Hakuba!" Hattori was yelling, green eyes blazing.

It was one of those rare times when you could tell the half-Brit was furious. He wasn't raising his voice many decibels, but there was a snarl rumbling low in his throat, and he was bristling. "No, you listen to me, Hattori-kun…! You are in cohorts with this boy here, and you are encouraging him to be silent on important police matters!"

"He is not encouraging me!" Conan interrupted. "It's my choice!" Suddenly, he became aware of the Ran's, Kazuha's, Kogoro's, and Nakamori's presence, causing him to calm down abruptly.

"What's going on here?" Nakamori demanded bad-temperedly, glaring at each and every one of the detectives. "Well?" There was silence for a minute, as the three high school students registered the question in their brains.

Taking the initiative, the seven-year old child said, attitude falsely immature, "Saguru-niisan is calling me and Heiji-niisan liars! I told him all I knew, but he's being really mean, and keeps on insisting me to tell him more!" The boy pouted childishly. There was a satisfied twinkle in his eye – he knew he had won over his audience.

Blinking, Hattori rasped hoarsely, "Y-yeah. This bastard f-" He fixed his language rapidly as he received a glare from his childhood friend, "-this idiot thinks that Ku-Conan-kun isn't tellin' him everythin' 'bout what happened. Poor brat, he almost died, and Hakuba's still raggin' at him."

…it was enough to immediately sway over Kazuha's and Ran's sympathies.

"You should be ashamed o' yerself!" the Osakan girl reprimanded, whipping around to face the blonde haired man. "Heiji's right – you shouldn't pick on somebody who's weaker than you! Aren't ya a detective?"

Stuttering, Hakuba only gaped. But…but this wasn't right! Why were they looking at him as the one at fault, as the one to blame? It didn't make any sense…neither did Conan's sudden outlook change, either. Why did the child act as an adult for one time, and a mere boy the next? He had a nagging, prickling feeling that there was more to Conan than being a genius seven-year old, definitely more than that. What kind of child was able to recite the Hippocratic Oath by heart, anyways? Many adults didn't even know it…!

"But-but you don't understand," Hakuba stammered, cringing as Ran loomed dangerously in front of him. "Edogawa-kun explicitly hinted the fact that he had a secret!"

"No, I didn't. Why would you say that, Saguru-niisan? I didn't say that, right, Heiji-niisan?" Hattori confirmed the boy's statement, with a nod and a smug beam.

Ran gave Conan a compassionate gaze, sliding over to a chair next to him. Still looking outraged, she smiled sweetly at Conan. "I'm so sorry for Hakuba-san's rudeness, Conan-kun. And I'm sorry I couldn't do anything when you got injured," the dark haired girl apologized, blue-grey eyes gleaming up at him. She reached out to give him a caring hug, a hand reaching out to ruffle his hair fondly. Poor Conan-kun had almost died.

Without thinking, Conan shook off Ran's arms pushing her away, wriggling out of her embrace. For a second, he felt guilty, observing her pained look as he refused to let her touch him. But…

This didn't feel right. It didn't feel right at all. Ran wasn't the person he wanted by his side. Ran wasn't the person he wanted to comfort him when he felt down, not the person to cling close to him, sharing his pain.

He didn't know why he didn't want Ran. He didn't know the reason behind it. But…but…it just didn't feel right. He wanted someone else to touch him, to talk to him, to be near him, to protect him…but who? He knew he had been drifting away from Ran, he knew he was getting farther from her…but to blatantly, outright push her away?

He had changed. Shinichi had changed so much that he couldn't recognize himself. He could look in a mirror and see Edogawa Conan, and then Kudou Shinichi…and then the images blurred and blended, mixing and mingling, assimilating into a completely different person. It was hard, so hard to distinguish the person who stood here now, who lived instead of died, who existed instead of departed, who waited and changed, and hurt.

It wasn't like he didn't want anything to do with Ran anymore – she was still his best friend. That would mean breaking a promise, which he detested. Hadn't he promised to come back to her side, when she waited for him? Hadn't he promised to himself to make her happy, to love her with all his might…? Whenever she smiled so happily, so innocently at him, it broke his heart. He didn't want to lie to her any more, but the truth would hurt her. He…he didn't want to tell her everything, only to say after that he didn't love her more that a friend…

But he wanted, wanted so damn badly, someone else…he could see brief flashes of them lingering in his mind, but he couldn't grasp exactly who…someone who was so challenging that it drove him on the brink of madness, someone fascinating and captivating…someone so gentle, with a bright smile and merry eyes…someone who seemed to understand…

…he was waiting for that someone else to come - for only they seemed to be the one who could make him truly happy. But if only they would come…

_ If only they would come._


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Asagao or Shiragiku, Part 2

_…tantei-kun, why aren't you moving? Please, please say something…come on, I'm right here…talk to me, say something, anything…_

_…please…please wake up…open your eyes…I want to see those blue eyes again…I want to see you smile, for once…for once…_

_…tell me…the truth…tell me why you've been hurting all this time…don't leave me alone right now, please…stay here…no…no…come back…I can't hear your voice any more…I can't hear your heart beat, your breath…come back…_

_I'm…I'm sorry…I couldn't…_

_If only you'd stop calling me Kid at the end…I want to hear my true name being said with your voice…I wanted to hear you say, at least for once, 'Kaito…'_

With an abrupt start, the dark-haired thief awoke from his sleep, violet eyes flying open. Tears streamed down his cheeks, mingling with humid sweat. He choked back a sob, sniffling quietly, unable to keep out the tears any longer. Fingers clenched tightly on the rough fabric of a blanket thrown across him.

He adjusted the position of his body restlessly, his head sinking deeper into a fluffy pillow. Squeezing his eyelids shut tightly, he hoped the blackness beneath them would make the flashing images of his dream disappear. Please, he thought weakly, please.

T_antei-kun, lying spread-eagled out on the ground, blue eyes staring blankly up at the sky…dark crimson soaking through the boy's chest…he, leaning over the boy, white suit stained with the child's blood, and in the distance, a darkly dressed man, holding a smoking gun…_

His mind panicked, brimming with fear and terror, No! Kaito clutched his head, hands tugging and tearing at messy strands of dark brown hair, trying to stop the broken remains of his nightmare from coming back. In flashes, they appeared and reappeared, again and again, playing over and over again like a broken record. Like a cassette tape, they rewound and reversed, and… he could hear the gunshot, the loud bang…the bitter scent of gunpowder wafting over to his nostrils…the rusty trace of blood - scarlet, red blood spilling out to the ground…the taste of salty tears rolling down his cheeks and running down his lips…

Why…why couldn't it stop? The young man tossed and turned, ruffling and wrinkling the bedcovers in the process, trying to forget his nocturnal imaginings. It seemed like hours as he lay awake, the regret and horror pulsing through his veins.

Trying to distract himself, he gazed outside his bedroom window, enraptured by the moon's soft rays. The dim glow of a street lamp reflected hesitantly off the glass, weakly glaring through the transparent, fragile pane. In a cool breeze, a curtain swayed briefly, before stilling. The moonlight seemed to radiate brightly from waxing, waning moon…but Kaito of all people knew that wherever there was light, there were shadows, no matter how much beauty light contained. And again, he was reminded of the presence of darkness in his life…

Kaito eventually slept, nightmares coming back to haunt him, his lips parting in a silent scream.

-o-o-o-o-o-

A silver bullet is one of the only effective weapons that can pierce the skin of werewolves, witches and some other monsters. When one loads a gun, to seek their destruction, one must arm oneself with silver bullets. But this was real life, this was reality.

There are no monsters, only human beings who are capable of becoming them. But there can be silver bullets; there can be those of strength who can bring down those of evil, no matter how difficult or hard. In a way, silver bullets exist, but don't exist. Unlike weapons, they are people. And people make mistakes – they are fallible, they are mortal, they are imperfect. Perhaps, when the time comes, they cannot fire into the heart of their enemy, they cannot devastate all the way, cannot finish the task they started to carry out. Or maybe, the ones of evil discard the silver bullets from the loaded gun, dropping them the floor, metal clacking uselessly onto the earth. The ones of darkness could toss the handful of scrap metal into a blazing fire, watching as the once silver bullets easily melted.

This fight is an even one, truthfully. But the shadowed ones do not battle fair. The chance can be against the silver bullets, or for them. Their spark and impact may flicker or weaken in this war, giving away to the wicked.

One has to pity the poor silver bullets. Everything is counting on them to be the ones to deliver the final, critical wound, to inflict the deadliest of injuries. The foe is on watch for them, wanting to desperately get rid of them once and for all. They must be lonely…given an unusual power that they must use, and having to always be on watch for the menacing shadows, who seek to wipe them out. And they, of course, have to protect the other weaker, lead bullets in the cartridge. They have been through so much, and too much, enough to make them quite weary of the world.

But yet, they are silver bullets, and they are strong. Even if it won't be long, even if they won't be able to release until the conclusion, they still are competent and capable. And there can be more than one way to shoot and aim the bullet, a different way to angle the gun and pull the trigger. The methods of each bullet vary, but at long last, they are able to land a fatal blow on their target.

In the end, the gun shall fire, projectile directed straight at the enemy. But whether or not it hits the bull's eye is anyone's guess.

It all depends on the strength of the silver bullets…and knowing that can hurt the silver bullets the most…

-o-o-o-o-o-

It was early in the morning, but still, Conan got the urge to take a walk around the city. He felt some sort of agitated, fidgety longing to go somewhere, to do something. He wasn't able to go back to sleep after he awoke, and so he resigned himself to a little stroll.

Quietly, he dressed out of his night clothes, noiselessly sliding into a much more suitable outfit for his excursion. Muffling a yawn, he unplugged his cell phone from its charger in the electrical outlet with a beep, pocketing it securely where it wouldn't drop. He didn't think twice about safety – he would be fine, after all, he wasn't actually seven. The boy crept past a peacefully slumbering Ran and snoring Mouri, tiptoeing past. Then, without looking back, he slunk out of the door, securely closing it shut.

As to be expected, the city was silent. Most people were still in bed, and only several occasional cars rumbled down the road, hissing past. The dark-haired child shoved his hands in his pockets as he ambled across the grey sidewalk, studying his surroundings with a disinterested eye, but still trying to absorb in every single sight.

Darkened stores sat quietly on empty streets, barred and closed, waiting for the return of their owners and workers. Many houses lounged in their own corners together, full of occupants, and yet dim and silent at the same time. From a nearby factory, grey smoke swirled from colossal smokestacks and chimneys, reaching high up in the air before dissipating. Continuing his wandering, Conan made sure to memorize the names of the streets he turned at, so he could be able to return to the hotel.

Turning a corner, the detective suddenly came upon an unusual scene. A dark haired young woman, long tresses possessing a purple sheen, was sitting on a velvet stool, a wooden crate lying in front of her covered with a silk section of fabric, edged with tassels. Used as a table, a clear, round orb-like object sat on a golden perch – a crystal ball, Shinichi conjectured. She was wearing the most peculiar of clothes, decorated with elaborate, exotic jewelry and ornaments around her wrists, neck, ears, and hair. As she turned to face him with her dark, mysterious eyes, the detective had the feeling that she had been waiting for him.

"Good morning, neechan," he greeted her courteously, feeling uncomfortable. The young woman was beautiful, yes…but she gave off another aura that gave him the chills, even creepier than Haibara's. Something murky and sinister seemed to lurk inside her, something he instinctively dreaded and became wary of. She studied him with a piercing, knife-like gaze, and he shivered, goose-bumps prickling on his arms.

The young woman shot him a thoughtful look, a thin smirk playing on her lips. "You're the same one," she noted calmly, "the man with the aggressiveness of the devil. I assume you're getting along with your Joker, aren't you?"

"A m-man?" Conan stammered. "I'm seven-years-old, neechan." What…? How…? How did she know that he wasn't a little boy, but older? And what did 'Joker' mean? His mind swirled with questions…and if she did know everything, what was she going to do with him and her knowledge?

"Don't worry," she reassured him, and miserably failed, "I will not tell your secret to him or anyone else, no matter how intriguing and tempting it is." A spiteful leer twisted her striking features. "Be honored that I have my divinations to offer. I am doing it for his sake, and not yours, because your choices can save him or kill him."

His throat dry, Conan rasped, "I…I don't know if I can trust you. And who are you talking about?" Divinations - was she a fortune-teller? Most likely, for she had a crystal ball in her possession…but magic wasn't real…right? Was she a threat, an ally, or neither?

"Listen to me, boy," she hissed quietly, voice low and mesmerizing. She was impatient – she was used to being listened to and indulged. For some reason, her powers did not affect this man – he could resist her completely and utterly. A rarity – so far, the only one she had known was Kid. "Do not take me as a fool or fraud, and listen well. Trust the Joker; for he is a wildcard, and has an important role. He can be extremely reckless, making him quite dangerous, and someone to be avoided. But he can offer you the help you need, so stay by his side."

The woman (the witch?) threw out a thin, flat object in the air towards him. The item whistled in the air, and Conan caught it between his index and middle finger. It was a playing card. A colorful red jester grinned up at him – a Joker.

Frustrated and mystified, Shinichi knew that the headstrong, obstinate girl would not answer any of his questions about her bizarre prophecies and predictions. But a final question slipped from his tongue, one that had been asked to him once, and would be asked again, in the future. "Who-who in the world are you?"

The woman smiled at him mysteriously, bidding him goodbye promptly. "Keep your promise to the Joker. And, meitantei-kun," she purred quietly, "I am the Scarlet Temptress." In an explosion of perfumed purple smoke, the young woman disappeared, along with the table, stool, and crystal ball.

All that was left was Conan, staring at the card in front on him, proof that his encounter was real. Dazed and shocked, he his head spun. How did she know he was a detective? And, again, who was the 'Joker' person she was talking about? Was she a real witch who could perform magic? What was she doing here, and why did she want to tell him all of this?

As he made his way back to the hotel, barely thinking as he marched one foot in from of the other, his mind kept on going over his strange meeting. Far-off, a clock tower chimed loudly, bongs reaching his ears. Realizing that his disappearance might be noticed quite soon, the boy hurried his pace, darting quickly, turning corners, shoes tip-tapping stridently across the cement pavement. He had to hurry…Ran would wake up soon, and she would panic. The girl always was concerned over him – after all, he was constantly involved with murders, kidnappings, bombings, thefts, and the like. Crime literally followed him everywhere.

Wait a second…Conan halted, pausing to glance at the street name. Where was he? He couldn't recognize this street at all. Did he make a wrong turn somewhere? But there was no time for this, he thought with irritation, looking down at his watch. He had to get back to the hotel. Maybe he would get lucky if he kept on walking, and hopefully he would find a familiar street.

But already, the city was showing signs of awakening. The street lamps were already off, and the sun was climbing its way higher up in the dim sky. Night clouds were clearing, and the moon was nothing but a mere outline tucked behind blue. He could see lights on in houses and stores, and as he passed a bakery, he could detect the warm smell of cooking pastries. Damn it…at this rate, he wouldn't make it in time. When he got home, he was so screwed…if he got home, that is. As he walked, he noticed an increase of rumbling cars cluttering the roads, and more people were out and about.

Damn it, where was he? And where was the hotel?

Out of the blue, the child crashed into something, clashing together violently. The breath was knocked out of him as he slumped down onto the sidewalk, ribs stinging with pain. "Ow," he groaned, rubbing his aching sides.

There was a grunt coming from the person he had slammed into. "Brat, watch where you're going," the person growled, wincing.

"Kaito!" a feminine, high-pitched voice yelled. "Be nice, stupid! You ran into a little boy." There was a loud, slapping noise as something hard collided on the first person. Conan heard scolding noises coming from the girl, chastising the boy for his clumsiness and carelessness.

Carefully, the detective took the time to examine the two quarrelling strangers curiously. Judging by their uniforms and age, they were high school students, about his real age. The pair was probably on their way to school. The one he had collided into was a dark, messy haired young man, who was currently grumbling and arguing with the second. The other, a young woman, was presently brandishing a mop, using it as a weapon.

Awkwardly, the child continued to observe their bickering by the sidelines, grimacing after a couple of minutes as his newly-formed bruises throbbed. He couldn't help but gape in amazement as the young man fluidly and gracefully hopped out of mop's reach, dodging each violent swing. It didn't help much, however, because the young woman still continued to strike with the janitorial implement faster, and with renewed rigor.

After a few minutes, the man finally discerned Conan's presence, and suddenly appeared at the boy's side, much to the woman's fury. "Sorry about that, boy," the man apologized with a wide grin, winking at his fuming companion cheekily. "Are you okay?"

Conan blinked, flabbergasted by the man's astonishing emergence. "It's nothing. It's just a couple of bruises." The child gestured to several discolored marks, darkening purple on his legs, purposely not mentioning several on his sides.

…why did this scenario seem so familiar? The young man gave him a wry smile, pulling out a bag stocked with medical supplies – a first-aid kit – seemingly out of nowhere. Quietly, the man kneeled down, pulled up Conan's shirt to reveal the hidden bruises underneath. "I knew there was more," he murmured, satisfied. To Shinichi's dismay, he found himself blushing as the stranger gently bandaged his wounds. Nimble fingers poked and prodded his stomach, binding those that were swelling and in need of treatment.

Déjà vu, Shinichi mused, that was the phrase. This…this was just like yesterday, wasn't it? With someone leaning over, tenderly taking care of him, warm, kind hands running across his skin… Warm…that word again…maybe it was because sometimes he felt his body was so cold, so clammy, like the corpses he was always was around…and someone's touch would bring him back to life, bringing him back into existence when he could feel the blood circulate through his body, his breath heave, his heart beat…but until now, it was only one person, unless…no, it couldn't be….but maybe, it was quite likely…

Meanwhile, the man completed dressing the injuries, surveying his handiwork with a self-congratulatory nod. "So, boy, what's your name? I'm Kuroba Kaito, nice to meet you." The man held out a hand for the child to shake, violet eyes laughing at him. How odd…Kuroba reminded him of someone else, and had the same feeling radiating around him. It was like…like you felt that person is playing a joke on you the whole time, and when it's finally revealed, you really wouldn't mind it at all – you'd be frustrated, but mostly entertained and amused.

"Edogawa Conan," he replied, reaching up to shake the teenager's hand, "tantei-san. Nice to meet you, Kaito-niisan. And…?" The boy turned to look questionably at the other teenager.

"Oh, I'm sorry about my manners," the girl apologized profusely, "I'm Nakamori Aoko, Conan-kun. By the way, you dropped this." The woman handed him the Joker playing card, which she had picked off of the sidewalk.

Kuroba peered over to scrutinize the object, and his eyes widened in bewilderment. "Aoko, don't you recognize it? It's one of Koizumi-san's cards." The woman had rather distinguishing, unique cards of her own, even also for her tarot cards. There was always something identifiable about certain card brands – he should know, he always bought them for his card gun, which was later modified to be sharp as knives.

"Kaito, you're right, it looks just like her fortune-telling cards!" exclaimed Aoko excitedly, perking up as she remembered. "Conan-kun, did you meet her? She's one of our classmates at school."

What a small world, Shinichi thought matter-of-factly. Firstly, Nakamori Aoko was most likely a relative, probably the daughter, of Nakamori-keibu. Secondly, of all people to run into, he had discovered friends of that…witch. Thirdly…no, that was stupid of him. He was jumping to conclusions, that couldn't be it.

"Yeah, I guess I met her," Conan answered, deep in thought. "She didn't give me her name, but I think that's her."

The dark haired girl beamed at him proudly, mop long forgotten. "She's great. Akako-chan can really predict a lot of things, and she gives me these magic charms sometimes."

Kaito cringed, recalling a certain incident involving a voodoo doll and a magic circle. "…great, right," he mumbled, trying to keep the sarcasm from creeping into his voice. Little Miss Witch would sometimes advise or warn him, but she was a treacherous force to be reckoned with.

Koizumi Akako…Shinichi memorized the name and filed it away. That may be quite useful to know in the future. But he knew he shouldn't do anything risky…like trying to approach her…she could be quite intimidating.

Kaito watched the small contemplating detective, the corners of his mouth beginning to quirk into a tiny smile. The way the boy concentrated and thought hard was no unknown sight to the magician, in fact, it was quite familiar. Tantei-kun would always have that focused look in his bright blue eyes, and whenever he figured something out, his eyes would narrow, and a victorious smirk would cross his face. Many times, that smirk would creep the hell out of him – that brat knew whatever he wanted and needed to know, and nothing could stop him. To Kid, that meant a very, very difficult heist….which was really fun, provided it was a soccer-ball-injury-free one.

Rapidly, a horrified expression replaced its previous one, and the boy checked his watch. "Oh shoot," he garbled. "I'm in so much trouble." Ran was going to kill him, slowly and painfully…dear lord, please let Hattori not be there when she was going to ground him…they did not need to see him treated that way…

Aoko glanced at the child, fretful as she observed his agitation. "What's wrong, Conan-kun? Do you need any help?"

Conan stuttered, words barely coherent. "I have to get back to the hotel. Ran-neechan's going to be mad. But I don't know the way…" Grumbling, he rebuked himself for his own idiocy. What kind of seventeen year old detective was he now? He certainly wasn't acting like one. Really, he should have been smarter than that…

"I wish we can show you the way," Aoko said apprehensively, giving a nudge to Kaito so he would appear just as ready to lend a hand, "but we're going to be late for school. I don't know if we'll have the time…" The girl trailed off regretfully, looking extremely apologetic.

The child just sighed. He at least wanted to get back without begging for help from Hattori and Ran to come get him…now he had to call them. It would probably take them a while to come, since they did not have a definite idea where he was, and they were unfamiliar with Ekoda.

An idea suddenly sprang into Kaito's mind as he observed the dejected detective. "Let's have Hakuba handle the brat, alright? He's always excused at school for his cases, so he won't be in any trouble. Anyways, I think they know each other." At least that was a faster way to deliver tantei-kun home…

The seven-year-old questioned, raising his eyebrows inquisitively, "Saguru-niisan goes to your school, too?" Hmm, interesting…well, he had a guide now, but…yeah, that was a big 'but' to consider. He had first got along okay with the arrogant half-Brit as detectives, but that association had shattered after the last heist. Maybe he could find a way to dissuade the blond about his opinion on the boy's dishonesty…

Luckily, Aoko was able to catch Hakuba walking to school at a few blocks over. And, being who he was, the man didn't decline – after all, it was Aoko who asked him, and he had a soft spot for her. (Kaito was trying to not snicker, "I bet this is the first time Hakuba's babysat." And he was hoping that tantei-kun would raise hell for the conceited blond.)

Stiffly, the young man strode up to Conan, his tone formal. "I suppose I must take you back, then. Mouri-san and Hattori-kun must be worrying about you." His blue eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the child, bearing in mind the aftermath of yesterday's heist. Conan glared back, daring Hakuba to start accusing him.

Kaito's eyes widened as he perceived the change in the atmosphere between the two detectives. Oh, dear…he got tantei-kun into quite a tight spot, didn't he? His heart tightened for a second, and he felt his stomach lurch…tantei-kun always attracted trouble. And, judging by the look Hakuba was giving the detective, the half-Brit was determined to pry information from the child. And…if his hunch was right, tantei-kun was hiding a major secret. Damn it, he cursed mentally. He knew how it felt to be harassed by Hakuba constantly.

Kneeling down so he could stare at the boy face-to-face, he produced a white rose out of nowhere, and slipped it into to tantei-kun's hands. "Be careful, alright?" he whispered quietly, tucking a stray, dark strand of the detective's hair behind a small ear.

Conan stiffened at the close proximity between them, but couldn't bring himself to pull away. He found himself trapped in Kaito's violet, violet eyes, his resolve dissolving and weakening... But he remembered himself in a moment, and struggling to think straight, he frowned, mystified. "About what, Kaito-nissan?"

Sliding his poker-face back into place, Kaito grinned widely. "Watch out for traffic, and look ways before you cross the street, brat." He stood back up, and sauntered over to Aoko gleefully, but, in reality, was more anxious than he seemed. Kaito looked back once more at Conan, his eyes melancholy, before turning away.

The child stared after the magician thoughtfully, pondering the teenager's actions.

Why, in that fleeting moment, did those words give him courage?


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: I lost my muse for this story. I'm sorry. But for now, I'll post two extras here that I've written some time before that go alone with my Flower Petals-verse.

Chapter ?: Panjī

You can't stand it.

You can't take it anymore, you can't remain strong.

You can't maintain that confident smirk of yours – it quivers downwards and you feel a shudder spread throughout your body, giving you goose-bumps. You can feel your heart beat abnormally louder than usual, pounding and echoing in your ears like unnatural drum beats. It throws off your senses, sending you into a shivering, trembling mass.

You hate it. You hate feeling so weak, so vulnerable, and so _open_.

You enjoy keeping control of yourself, you enjoy controlling the game, building up the pressure and revealing the truth with a self-assured grin, putting together all of the pieces until you proclaim your final denouncement.

A game…? Was that what it was? But amidst the action, to you, it can be a game. Like a cat and mouse chase – you chase the culprit following their footprints, observing them closely and carefully…and then you pounce. You spring upon them, tell them about the evilness of their actions, claws raking at their heart and conscience. And then you have them locked in a cage they cannot open.

…and that was it. That was all there was to it. And even though you solved the case, there's emptiness, and your heart is hollow. Even though you carried out justice, there's still yourself. How about you? What does doing this do for you? How can doing any of this bring you closer to any happiness?

Yes, you know that criminals are not good, they're not just. You know that they must be stopped and punished. You know that they deserve whatever the law has in store for them.

…But what about you? You examine clues and lower the magnifying class; you declare the identity the culprit and how they committed the crime; you point a finger and turn an iron key. But what then…what do you do?

What do you do about your life? Is that what you have – only your cases and crimes? And it hurts so goddamned much to think that's what you'll ever have and ever own.

And they seem to take away everything that's important to you. You have to run away and leave behind your friends and your family to continue working. You have to ignore the pleas of a girl you've known your entire life, and eventually lose her. You have to let your curiosity overwhelm you, leading you to a deeper world of evil.

All for that stupid thing called justice.

So you hate yourself so much, that hatred growing inside you like a rotting plant. Its knotted vines wrap around your heart tightly, squeezing it dry of any pleasant emotions. It's a disease – a blight. And all the flowers around are wilting, their putrid stench emitting inside you.

You want, so much, to curl up in a ball in a dark corner, to let your weakness soak through, and finally veer its ugly head itself.

But you can't. You have to maintain a strong fort and continue to hold out, even though you can feel the walls crumbling. Everybody, whether they are aware of it or not, is depending on you to make things right….but who are you to depend on?

You've known it all along. You've known so much…you're really alone, isolated in your own island, separated from the mainland…

You've know that you're alone, and there's no one there for you. There's no one who understands how lonely it is to act like another person and wear a mask for god knows how long. There's no one who understands that amid the excitement, there's seclusion.

So you hide. You hide among your murders and cases, pretending to be completely immersed in them. You try and accept that it makes up your whole self, your whole character. You try to become the detective everyone sees you as and expects you to be.

…detective, that's who you are. Not Kudou Shinichi…

Can't people understand that there's more to you than that? Can't you wish that one day, you can be addressed and talked to as a fellow human being, that one day, you want to leave the chaotic battlefield, and _live_?

You're so pathetic, really. Even when it hurts, the only thing you can go back to is your cases. Even when tears are threatening to shed, you still continue to battle with death. Even when you feel like the man named Kudou Shinichi isn't real and doesn't exist…you still fight. Even though your crime scenes are the very things that are hurting you, you still go back to solving them.

They're the only things you have, after all.

Inside, you know you're falling apart.

Because there's no one there to hold you close, may it be a friend, a family member, a lover. Because there's no one there at the end of the day to remind you that humanity is good, despite the evil that they are capable of. Because there's no one there who ever truly accepted you for every single aspect you possessed, good or bad, and _understood_.

What could anyone else understand? They couldn't. They were…happy, living in perfect ignorance, in their own little world. You know you could never get them to understand exactly how you feel. They were so different. And you could almost hate them for it - hate them for unconsciously leaving you to be like _this_, this wretched, lonely _thing_.

Sure, you can tell them your innermost secrets. Sure, you can tell them the truth.

But no matter how many times you may repeat it, they just won't get it. It makes you want to throw them into the bloody hole you're in, so they could feel all the pain as well. You wish that they should be buried with you, too, and pushed under rocks and soil, dirt-encrusted nails scraping at the earth, trying to reach the sky.

But you can't bring yourself to destroy their innocence. Something pure and clean like that, you can't stain. You can't let them know that in light, there are always shadows. So you leave them be, continuing to make sure they're safe and happy in their simple, joyful world, while you protect them from anything that threatens to destroy it. You take it upon yourself to carry more weight other than your own, even though it drags you into great depths, drowning your heart in misery.

It comes down to what kind of person you are. You are the type of person who would bring down the burdens and pain to fall on you, to slip inside of the shadows to try and dispel the darkness. You are the brand of person who would die rather than kill, even if you're staring face to face to a murderer. You are the sort of person who allows life to be happy for others, but not for yourself.

And you pretend to be a part of their world, even though it's obviously not true. You pretend to enjoy engrossing yourself in the adrenaline rush and thrill of crimes, even though you abhor it all. Everything sickens and disgusts you, now…

So you begin believing nobody can get you out of that blasted hole. You begin losing hope of being happy. You begin accepting your loneliness.

…and then _he_ comes along.

No, not a heavenly angel, and no, not an impure devil, either…he's a species of his own. Something unique and definitely not normal, something fascinating and captivating - he's just himself.

But he's in that hole where you're buried; he's stained his white suit with blood. He has his own kind of justice mixed in with revenge, and he, too, plays his own facade. He's basked in exhilaration of a chase…and yet, he's lost himself in it.

Just like you – exactly like you.

He's your enemy, but not precisely. He's your rival, but not specifically. In a way, you are opposites, but in the same way, alike. He has his own way of thinking that amazes you and takes you by surprise, and an erratic, enigmatic style that amuses you completely. You catch yourself smiling whenever you see him.

He has warmth to offer. He has comfort and caring inside him, somewhere, under laughter and jokes and pranks. Underneath his crazy attitudes, there's something that you comprehend, because it's something you have as well.

He breaks rules without care; he dangles bait in front of the hungriest, sharp-toothed sharks. He disregards his own safety and well being in the place of others; arrogantly shows off in the largest of crowds, becoming the center of attention and yet, he is also alone. Nobody knows how he feels, nobody knows what he does.

But you do. And you have your own warmth to offer to him, while he offers you his own.

Slowly, you begin to appreciate him. Slowly, he begins to become something special, something important to you. And your bond together has grown to a completely different level.

_He_ _understands_. Of all people in the world, he understands.

When you cry, he cries. Whenever he sees your tears, something in him seems to break, but the most important thing is, _he's there_. Even if you're too bigheaded to accept his comfort, he's still there, still trying. Even if you shake off a caring arm of your shoulder, he still clings to you, refusing to budge.

It's weird - on your first impression, he didn't seem the type to feel the way you're feeling. He seemed like someone so strong, with that insane, arrogant smirk plastered on his face, wearing that flamboyant, outrageous outfit. But you begin to realize that it's simply a disguise – like the one you've been wearing for a while.

But the most important this is, he cries too. He knows how you feel…and it hurts him. And you're thankful he understands you.

At times like those, you're glad to call him your lover.


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter ?: Yotsuba no Kurōbā

Luck works so intermittently. It changes – it gives you good fortune and bad, it gives you moments happy and sad, and it can bless you or curse you. It alters, it shifts…luck is luck, after all, and it jumps from person to person, it lasts, it empties.

You seem to have been mostly lucky the rest of your life, actually. You haven't been caught or arrested, or shot dead…yet. You have both of your lives to contend with and handle, and you enjoy them both to an extent. But both have their costs…

Whether you see it or not, there's a shadow cast over both of your lives. Any day, any time, any hour, any minute…time ticking, the world moving…any moment, you could die. Those secrets throw a long, wide, dark shadow, looming menacingly over you, and everybody close to you.

And yet, in spite of yourself, for their sake, you smile. You smile and laugh, and you let yourself enjoy the moment, your body tense, waiting. Waiting, you're always waiting.

You're waiting for the moment when the action will blaze through, when the thrill will kick in. You're waiting until the time you must fight, armed and ready, fearful and wary. You're waiting until bad luck will strike you down like lightening, when your good luck runs out, like the grains of an hourglass.

Those hands of the clock, tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, are ringing and echoing your ears…make them stop, make them quiet down, it reminds you too much of your pain…you can't tell anyone…you have to…you have to smile…you have to always smile…

When it all comes down to everything, you know that that only thing you're doing is waiting for the inevitable - for the unavoidable battle, the final fight that will settle everything…you know you must take a part in it, and there's a big chance that you, and the ones you care about, won't escape it unscathed.

And even though you hate to admit it, it scares you. It makes you afraid, so afraid, and you want to cower in the dark, you want to hide and run. But you can't. You play a larger part in this whole damn thing, you must participate. You know that you're capable of many things…but whether you'll win or not…who knows? You can't run, you can't hide, and all you can do is force yourself to keep going forward, always wearing a smile and a grin.

Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, the clock of luck is running…Come on, keep on playing this risky game, keep jumping and moving and flying…

Even though you'd rather fall…even though you'd rather let go of your goals, even though you'd rather forget…

Falling is easier than flying, but you must perform the latter. You can't run now, you can't turn back. What else can you do? This…this is your life. This is all what you can do, and what you must do. You must act the way everyone expects, try and soak in the adrenaline, and feel the rush, excitement rushing in your veins…

But all of your troubles and efforts eventually end in emptiness. None of this fills you up. There's nothing…nothing…only so much hurt, and so much pain.

Perhaps what you have now is bad luck, and more will come your way. After all, why else are you lonely?

Tick-tock, tick-tock, the clock of luck chimes…and in a stroke of good fortune, delivers into your grasp something new, something different…something that becomes yours.

Your happiness comes in the form of a detective, a boy, and a teenager. He's all three of them…but not exactly. He's everything you admire, you respect, and you want.

His smile is the most precious jewel in the world. A rare sight to behold, a gem of its own class and stature….it's the beautiful thing ever when you finally see it, without the masks and the lies and the secrets. It's…real, it's true, unlike the ones you wear.

But you hate it when he cries.

You hate it when those wet droplets of liquid taints his smooth skin, when his eyes redden, sore from sobbing. You hate to see the depths of pain hidden underneath the layers he buries himself in. He's as fragile just as he is sturdy. He's carrying…so many burdens…he's carried so much, he's hurting.

But you're…too much like him. How could you cheer him up, if you couldn't even cheer up yourself? With anyone else, all you do is smile, because that's all that you know. But with him, you hold him close and cling to him tightly, drawing him into a warm embrace.

You feel his pain, and are reminded of your own.

So you cry, too.

But…but despite this…regardless…you're glad you have him. He helps you…and you help him. He gives you answers to your questions, and you provide your own answers for him. He accepts you then more than just someone who smiles, grins, and entertains…he knows there's more than just that…

…he understands you.

Everything about him that everyone sees, you look past that. He's weaker than everybody thinks, but in another way, stronger. He's lived through so much…so much…why hadn't you been there when he needed you? But at least…at least right now, you're here for him.

Tick-tock, tick-tock, tick-tock, the clock of luck resonates, their vibrations shivering your bones…chilling your blood…blasting your eardrums…tearing your heart to pieces…

But whenever Shinichi's in your arms, the sounds are merely fading echoes.


End file.
